


Keep Them Warm

by TrashQueenOfficial



Series: Lamps, Stress, and Magic (Featuring the New Jersey Devils.) [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Magic!AU, New Jersey Devils, but its just lamps, its kinda a magic au, lamp!au, please I just thought of this cause Ken Daneyko says "Light the Lamp" way to often
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashQueenOfficial/pseuds/TrashQueenOfficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid Boucher thinks his lamp is cursed, the shittiest lamp to every try to light someone else's off of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Them Warm

Reid likes to think everyone has one, a little lamp. An oil one like they used to use in the “olden times”, Andy says it every time with this terrible settler accent in his voice. He honestly can not remember when his showed up, he feels like it’s just always been there. It makes him sad, when he sees someone who hasn’t gotten their lamp yet. Though at this point in his career they are usually goalies and people who, y'know, haven’t played hockey and most likely never will.

The lamps are always so different. Some are so small, he recalls laughing at Damon’s little birdcage like lamp until he saw how often Damon pushed for assists. Sevs preferred to stay out of the limelight and let his forwards score the goals. But Rico and Palmie, their lamps are bigger than his own, and Kyle’s is always so warm. Apparently Mike’s lamp is warmer, almost hot to the touch, but he’s never seen it. Reid hopes he can soon. He doesn’t know what the actual purpose of the lamps is. He does know that when someone scores and lights theirs, it’s like the best thing in the world. Everything is brighter and he even feels warmer, like he’s just come inside from a walk during winter. The lamps can be the most intricate thing, and most definitely not from pre-eighteenth century where they belonged. In fact, David Schlemko's looked a lot like a street lamp, but Reid wasn't about to go around judging people's lamps, that would just be rude and unprofessional. Plus he certainly wouldn't like someone  judging his little tulip shaped lamp. No one ever got chirped about their lamp, that just seemed too personal.

Reid thinks there is nothing worse then lighting the lamp first when he does it during the game against Columbus in February. He’s stuck waiting with his little lamp. Palmieri comes by once or twice, but Kyle’s wick is too short or he’s out of oil or Korpisalo comes up and snuffs out his flame before it can really get going. Even Damon tries, a small smirk on his face as he gives Reid a sheepish shrug when he realizes his lamp is literally empty.

“It’s okay Dsevs, don’t worry about it.” Blandisi get’s his lit for a split second, and the ref comes and pours water on the little flame with a glare and a huff of a “no goal.” Coach is pissed about that one, and tries to argue it, but that doesn’t work out. After awhile he feels like it’s his lamp, everyone on the team has come up and tried at this point. His hands are shaking, his grip is too tight on his stick, and Adam Larsson is rubbing small circles into his back between shifts on the ice. Columbus has lit four different ones at this point, and Foligno’s lamp is glowing bright, his hat trick flame radiating so far he could almost feel it. They lose that game one-six, and he’s the only one who scored.

Reid starts to think his lamp is cursed, and that he should probably never start the scoring ever. But everyone’s telling him he did great, Andy is ruffling up his hair and Zajac is smiling at him, hand out for a quick high five that leaves his hand stinging slightly. Cory is smiling brightly at him, on the phone with his wife already, probably asking about the baby. Wyatt has been running the Schneider’s ragged as of late, teething apparently, and Reid hopes Cory can get some time to relax soon. He gets to his locker and Damon is instantly suckerfished to his side, but Severson is always stuck to someone so it's really nothing new

“Good goal Reid! Now if only Blender could follow your lead.” Damon snickered as he tried to avoid the sweaty jersey Joseph throws his way after making an exasperated face at Severson's chirp, attempting to hide behind Reid even though he is three inches taller.

“That was a shit call and you know that!” Blandisi is already out of his gear, standing around in underarmour pants and scowling at Damon, who just sticks his tongue out at the other, before wandering off to go find Mike, who’s here somewhere. Reid remembers seeing him on the plane, cuddled up in the back with Damon, right wrist still all taped up. Damon told him that Cammalleri hates being in the locker room when he can’t play, says he thinks it's bad luck, and Reid isn’t about to question his friend on his boyfriend’s weird quirks. Hynes says that Mike is getting better, and Reid looks forward to being on the ice with him, and maybe actually seeing that lamp in action. He's formally introduced to him sooner than he thought he would be, Damon pulling the man by his coat jacket into the locker room. Honestly, the first thing Reid thinks is that Mike’s smile is even dopier in person. He personally can’t talk however, he’s missing a tooth of his own.

“Dude that was a great goal! I could feel it from up in the stands.” It’s the first thing Mike Cammalleri says to him and Reid can suddenly understand why Damon likes him so much.

“Seriously?” Reid knows how he probably looks, still in half in his gear, face red, and hair an absolute birds nest courtesy of the captain. He must look like an absolute child, baby face and slightly crooked teeth not helping him. Mike must be wondering who let a ten year old play on his team.

“Most definitely. I’m Mike, but you can call me Cammy, everyone else on this god forsaken team seems too.” Tootoo grins at Cammy from across the room.

“You talkin shit Cammy?”

“You gonna stop me Toots?” Jordin pretends to square up, shooting a few mock jabs in Mike’s direction.

“When did you get in here Cammy? Sevvy pull you out of hiding already?” Kinkaid is pulling a hat onto his head, sending a wayward kick in Gionta and Henrique's direction, where Rico is holding Stephen’s shirt just out of his reach, “You’re gonna get your ass kicked Rico.”

“By this little dude? No way.” There’s a grin in Rico’s voice and Reid can suddenly feel the heat his lamp has been giving off the whole time, soft and warm. The locker room is clearly still tense from the loss, not nearly as boisterous as usual, but they are going to learn from it and move on. They always do. Reid is confident that next time he light the lamp, it’ll spread like wildfire.


End file.
